


trevor the vampire

by coffeesuperhero



Category: Homestar Runner, Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Drug Use, Drugs, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Iron Man 3 Spoilers, Marijuana, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drug Use, Spoilers, sabinelagrande and I should not be left unattended, unnecessary obscure shakespeare references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesuperhero/pseuds/coffeesuperhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor Slattery emails Strong Bad. </p><p>Yes, you read that correctly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trevor the vampire

**Author's Note:**

> Really cracky crack fic. I have no idea how this happened, but I blame nostalgia for old web cartoons. And Sabine. Mostly I blame Sabine.

It is somewhere around eight in the afternoon, and Trevor Slattery is completely fucking stoned. He's taken some, okay, probably a lot of... drugs. Mostly pot. Fuck, maybe some pills. Pot and pills aren't the same. So some pot and...some other things. The pills were an experiment. 

He got the pills from the guy who owns the old house he's in for the night. The guy said he grew up in Hampton Hill, or maybe Hampton? Sounds posh. Sounds far away. Fuck, where is he? He can't be in Hampton. Hampton's in a completely different part of fucking London. Isn't it? 

He googles it. 

He sees that there's a Hampden, Maine. Fuck, is he in America? Why in god's name would anyone issue him a passport? He peers out the dingy window. It still looks a lot like England, but he's never been to Maine. For all he knows, they look very similar. 

There's like, possibly enough weed for a joint left, so he rolls one and considers his place in the universe for a few hours. 

When he comes back to his body, he's still at the computer, emailing a guy wearing a wrestling mask who answers questions on the internet in these little videos that make him look like he's a cartoon, or at least Trevor's pretty sure that he looks like one. Could be anything, really. He's pretty stoned. 

Someone left a burrito! This has been an excellent day so far. He's going to regret the burrito later, or maybe it's just whoever will visit the washroom next who'll regret it. Whatever. It's a delicious burrito with a side of a joint. 

He takes another hit. Hours later, he eats the rest of the burrito. 

There's a computer in front of him with a half-written email. Was he emailing someone? He reads and rummages for rolling papers. 

_Hi strong bad. My name is Trevor and I am from Hampden Maine, and I was wondering if you could teach me how to be as awesome as you._

That makes sense. But the burrito is gone. Perhaps this person he's emailing took it. Strong Bad. Sounds like an inveterate burrito thief. God, he could murder a burrito right now, but the burrito seems to be trying to murder him, judging by the pain in his stomach. 

There's a busted window in the washroom, and the morning-- fuck, when did morning happen-- light from outside is bright, too bright. He shields his eyes. Why is the sun so bright? Why has this burrito betrayed him? He belches and there's a strong, noxious smell of garlic. He almost sicks up. 

Sensitivity to light, bad reaction to garlic. That sounds familiar. Why does that sound-- 

Christ, is he a vampire now? What the fuck kind of pills were those, anyway? He rubs his face with his hands and stumbles back to his room. 

Oh, fuck, someone was writing an email. Was he doing that? He squints at the screen. His name is there, but it says he's from Hampden, Maine. He's not from bloody Maine, he's from Croydon. The guy who owns this place is from Hampton. Wait, is this Hampton? Where the fuck is this? Perhaps there's someone else named Trevor who was here and writing this thing. 

"Sorry, Other Trevor," he says, sitting down behind the keyboard. Possibly he can find a new vampire support group on the internet.

 _I am a vampire and_ he types. 

Someone kicks the door in. 

"Yes?" he asks, staring at the men in suits standing in the doorway.

"Mister Slattery," one of the men says. "We need you to come with us." 

Trevor sighs. "Is this about the vampirism? Because that's a very recent development and I swear I haven't bitten anyone yet." 

The men exchange glances. "Uh, sure. Our boss has a part for you. It's not Dracula," one of them says, and the others laugh. Trevor laughs, too, although at this point, he thinks perhaps playing Dracula would be typecasting. "Alas, no more outdoor Shakespeare festivals," Trevor tells the men. "Too much sun, you know." He frowns. "You wouldn't happen to know where my burrito got to, would you?" 

One of them tosses a bag of weed in Trevor's direction. "Whatever, Bela Lugosi. If you come with us, there's more where that came from. We can get you a burrito on the way to meet the boss." 

"More drugs, excellent idea," Trevor says. More drugs, always a good idea. "If I'm high I probably won't bite anyone." He hits send on the email. Other Trevor will be pretty confused when he gets a reply from this Strong Bad fellow. He smiles at the strange men who have come to offer him more weed and follows them out. Trevor Slattery, exit, upstage, not pursued by bears. 

He does hope no one stakes him.

**Author's Note:**

> Strong Bad's answer to Trevor's email is located [here](http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail10.html).


End file.
